Extreme Ways
by IndiaInk
Summary: This is the end. The last struggle, the last confrontation. The last time I pretend that the pain will make me stronger. What is there to be stronger for?Sirius' POV Rated for character death.


**Disclaimer: Guess what? I don't own anything. Alarming, huh?**

**A/N: This is inspired by the film _The Life of David Gale_. It's a little A/U and it's Sirius' POV, so you'll have to assume that what happened to Sirius at the end of book 5 didn't happen. Song is "Extreme Ways" by Moby; lyrics in bold italics. Enjoy.**

**Extreme Ways**

**by IndiaInk**

**Dedicated to everyone who has been executed for a crime they did not commit.**

_**Extreme ways are back again**_

_**Extreme places I didn't know**_

_**I broke everything new again**_

_**Everything that I'd owned**_

_**I threw it out the windows, came along**_

_**Extreme ways I know move apart**_

_**The colors of my sea**_

_**Perfect color me**_

This is the end. The last struggle, the last confrontation. The last time I pretend that the pain will make me stronger. What is there to be stronger for?

The icy, demonic presence of the dementors begins to reach me as I slouch against the damp, crooked walls of my cell. It's almost time.

Delusional cries and pleas of agonized men echo throughout the halls of Azkaban. They are not my cries, however. It seems absurd in a hellhole like this, but those men, the men who scream in pain and supposed hopelessness, they have hope. They have hope that if they keep screaming, maybe something miraculous will occur. Maybe someone will hear their cries and save them. That's a big maybe, considering the only someone's who stick around here are the dementors, and those creatures are...well, to put it very nicely, let's just say they've never heard of sympathy. Nevertheless, it's still a maybe...and maybe, means hope.

_**Extreme ways that that help me**_

_**Help me out at night**_

_**Extreme places I had gone**_

_**But never seen any light**_

_**Dirty basements, dirty noise **_

_**Dirty places coming through**_

_**Extreme worlds alone**_

_**Did you ever like it planned**_

But I am no longer one of those men. I was the first time I was thrown into this pit, after I supposedly killed Peter Pettigrew and a dozen muggles (A/N: if this isn't the correct numbers, humour me.) I spent every day...which in the darkness of Azkaban may as well have been nights...bawling hysterically, driven mad by the memory of all the crimes I did not commit.

But now I laugh instead of cry. And it isn't mad-scientist, ridiculous, insane laughter as you're probably thinking it is. I laugh because I'm a dead man. Or I will be in about...let me check the clock...four and a half minutes. But I'm virtually dead.

You see, a person can die before they're literally dead. When you have nothing left to live for, no one who will accept you and accept the truth of your life...when there is nothing for you, you die.

_**would stand in line for this**_

_**There's always room in life for this**_

Go ahead; tell me that there is _always _something to live for, that I should have hope. Well thanks a bunch, really. The thing is, that's just not true.

I once had something to live for; I'll give you that.

Back when I started Hogwarts, even though I had a serious falling out with my monster of a mother and was disowned and probably not missed, I thought that I was alone. But I guess somebody up there liked me, because I made friends with James, Remus, and strangely enough, Peter. They became my family and I knew then that as long as I had them, I could survive...and maybe even live.

My life at Hogwarts could even be described as normal...for a wizard, anyway.

But the time has passed to reminisce about my friends and all the brilliant pranks we played on Snivellus.

_**Oh baby, oh baby**_

_**Then it fell apart, it fell apart**_

_**Oh baby, oh baby**_

_**Like it always does, always does**_

Even the first time I got thrown into Azkaban for life, I was determined to get out because I knew I didn't kill Peter, and I needed Harry to understand how sorry I was for all of his suffering.

But the time has passed to think about my adventures in the open air trying to find Harry.

I survived as an escaped convict for three years before Harry and Remus managed to clear my name. Harry and Remus. The two reasons I didn't just crawl right back into my dank cell in Azkaban.

But now Remus is gone, dead. He fought well in the war...he contributed greatly to the fight against Voldemort. He saved my life. It's a shame people won't remember his heroic feats because they're too consumed with the belief that I killed him.

Even after my name was cleared, they think I would actually kill the only true friend I had left...well that's the "justice" system for you.

The mildewy water on the ground below me is turning to ice and my toes are numb.

The Dementors are here.

_**Extreme songs that told me**_

_**They helped me down every night**_

_**I didn't have much to say**_

_**I didn't get above the light**_

_**I closed my eyes and closed myself**_

_**And closed my world and never opened **_

_**Up to anything**_

_**That could get me along**_

I look up to see four Dementors and one Cornelius Fudge (it's a miracle in and of itself that that fool is still Minister of Magic...too bad he wasn't killed in the war) standing menacingly outside my cell.

Fudge steps forward, unlocks the cell and steps inside, carefully avoiding getting his expensive black robes dirty in the shallow pools of water on the floor.

"Stand up, please," he says, although it's obviously not a request, but a command.

With a grunt, I use the wall as an aid to push myself off of the ground.

Fudge nods in the direction of the Dementors. "Walk," he orders.

I silently comply. I can feel the hard stares of other inmates as I walk down the aisle towards my death. I know without looking that some of the stares are jealous, some grateful, but none are pitying...in Azkaban, every man only has enough energy to think of himself.

I hear a maniacal, high pitch cackle to my right. "Aw...poor Sirius, you're going to your death. Well, at least you'll see your blood traitor friends in heaven."

I look over into the cell, only to see possibly my least favourite person in the world, Bellatrix Lestrange. Thrown in for killing Merlin knows how many people. But she is proud of her crimes.

Fudge clears his throat, but I rais one finger to indicate that I will only be a moment. Bellatrix continues, "Oh, but I forgot...you'll be going to hell."

I blink. "I'll see you there, then. Have a nice stay, Bella," I said, then continue down the aisle. The sooner I die, the better.

_**I had to close down everything**_

_**I had to close down my mind**_

_**Too many things to cover me**_

_**Too much can make me blind**_

_**I've seen so much in so many places**_

_**So many heartaches, so many faces**_

_**So many dirty things**_

_**You couldn't believe**_

I chuckle softly as her angry exclamations echo behind me. "I'd rather be in hell than in a world ruled by blood-traitors! Everyone will soon know that they should not have rid of The Dark Lord!"

Fudge leads me into the room in which I will be executed.

The room is extremely smallwhen I sit down on the rickety wooden chair there are only about three feet from my shoulders to the walls on my sides.

Apparently Fudge is the only witness. Not surprising.

One of the dementors steps forward. It leans toward me with a pace so remarkably slow, I know it's trying to suck the last of my happy thoughts from me.

Now is finally the time to allow myself one last thought.

Harry.

I know what you're thinking...If Harry's still alive, isn't that something to live for? Well Harry _knows_ this time; he knows I didn't kill Remus. And he has the evidence to prove it.

_**I would stand in line for this**_

_**It's always good in life for this**_

The dementor is now only inches from my face, its ratty black cloak brushes my arms as the material billows in an invisible wind.

Now you ask a reasonable question: If there's evidence that you're innocent, why are you giving in to the Dementor's Kiss.

Because Fudge and all his other 'law enforcement' friends at the Ministry didn't get it the first time. They didn't understand after my name had been cleared that they had thrown an innocent man in the worst prison in the world for twelve agonizing years, and they could have avoided it had they looked a little bit further into my case.

So it seems that I must die to get that point across.

Yes, this choice of mine is extreme, and it's extreme that Harry is aiding the death of his godfather to make a political point. But I've lived my whole life in extreme ways, and there's no reason to break that pattern.

Harry knows that I am dead inside, and that saving my life wouldn't do any good for anyone.

My whole life I have tried to find reasons to live, reasons why "Sirius Black, Mass Murderer" should even bother to save his own life.

The Dementor's empty, black face is a centimeter from mine and it places its black, scabby, talon-like hands on my shoulders.

This is the end, and I take one last calm breath.

At last, a reason to die.

_**Oh baby, oh baby**_

_**Then it fell apart, it fell apart**_

_**Oh baby, oh baby**_

_**Like it always does, always does**_

**A/N: Just some drabble I thought of earlier today; sorry it's unbeta-ed, but I hope you liked it.**

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**Love,**

**India**


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